If Portland Public Schools teacher Don Gavitte wins election
to the Oregon House this year, he pictures taking students with him. He'll
offer an elective class on state politics and have his students serve as staff.

"My office is going to be loud," he says, beaming. "It's
going to be annoying."

Gavitte is one of six Democratic candidates jockeying for an
open seat in House District 42, representing the affluent liberal epicenter of inner-eastside
Portlandia and some surrounding middle-class neighborhoods. He has less money
and fewer endorsements than his leading opponents, and he filed for office
partly to make a point to his students. Yet he could win the seat, given the lack
of Republican opposition and the unpredictable nature of a six-way race.

Consider: He's the teacher candidate running in a closed Democratic
primary against 1) the environmental guy, 2) the gay dad with labor-union
backing, 3) the woman, 4) the pot-legalization guy and 5) the perennial
candidate. In electoral terms, anything could happen -- which means Gavitte
could find himself teaching the class of his life.

Gavitte, 45, is a popular social studies teacher at Grant
High in Northeast Portland, specializing in history, government and philosophy.
He sports a salt-and-pepper goatee and a stingy-brim fedora, which he wears
while canvassing and in his campaign photos. ("Did you see my billboard?" he
asks. "I had a billboard.")

He finds it surreal to have a billboard. He finds it equally
strange to have actual politicians come to his fundraisers. He described Sen.
Mark Hass, D-Beaverton, showing him the ropes of having a campaign photo taken
together.

"He told me that we should pretend like we're talking," Gavitte
recounted. "I said, 'But we ARE talking!'"

Gavitte's campaign team fits comfortably at a small kitchen
table. His wife is the campaign treasurer, and his campaign manager is a politically
savvy 19-year-old. Yet he has built a following through his years at Grant and some
recent school-funding activism, and he snagged some big-name endorsements,
including the Oregon Education Association, the Portland Association of
Teachers, and Hass, who chairs the Senate Education Committee.

"He's an extraordinary teacher," Hass says. "It's a good sign
when your former students – all enrolled in good colleges – are stepping up to
help."

I'm not trying to imply that Gavitte is the best candidate in
the race. His opposition includes at least one candidate with more political
experience who might be more effective in Salem. Also, I can't vote in this
race anyway, despite living in the district: Oregon's parties don't allow
non-affiliated voters to participate in their primaries, which effectively
disenfranchises large swaths of voters in "safe" districts.

Still, I'll admit a soft spot for candidates who know exactly
who they want to help and why. In Gavitte's case, it's his students.

He sees how hard they work, and how challenging it will be for
them to pay for college or buy a house. He sees how driven they are. ("You have
to be a machine," he says. "And I see that anxiety in my kids.") He decided to
run because he wanted to show students the power of audacity – and because he
thinks society isn't keeping its promises to them.

So, who knows? In a six-way race like this, the field is open. The
winner could take all with as little as 20 percent of the primary vote – a
subset of a subset. The four leading contenders are Rob Nosse, the likable
labor representative; Kathleen O'Brien, the adoption attorney; Teddy Keizer of
the ubiquitous "Go Teddy Go" signs, and Gavitte.

If it's Gavitte, then expect a lot of energy coming from his
office along with the noise. His students, he vows, will "help our Legislature
keep it real like only teenagers can."

Voters don't hear that kind of campaign promise very often. I wish
they did.